


Something Old, Something New

by elivigar



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Flirting, Fluff, Innuendo, M/M, Makeup Artist Ashton Irwin, Swearing, i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27011488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elivigar/pseuds/elivigar
Summary: “So, makeup, then?”Luke can feel a rush of blood from his stomach to his face, and he rolls his lips before giving a curt nod.“Wanna give me something more to go on, or would you like me to just slather some products on you and hope for the best?”“Oh,” Luke says, and it comes out accompanied by a curt, breathy laugh. “I… I don’t know. I just wanted to… you know, try something new, but…”In which Ashton is a makeup artist and Luke likes the idea of everything pretty.
Relationships: Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 7
Kudos: 59





	Something Old, Something New

**Author's Note:**

> Well, the other day I screamed out in a Discord server that I wanted to write something and [Bella](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess) aka [clumsyclifford](https://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com) responded after approximately 0.2 seconds with, "Makeup artist Ashton" (thank you, love), and that's how this came to be. Short and ridiculous and completely and utterly pointless, but it was so lovely to write, so I hope someone enjoys reading it as well? The inspo behind the look "described" is, probably quite obviously, the beautiful beautiful IG post of Luke's from like half a year ago. And also, I don't know shit about makeup, so... read at your own risk? Come talk to me on [Tumblr](https://ashtcnirwin.tumblr.com) if you wanna!♥

The door slams shut with a sharp crack that has Luke flinch, and he has to suppress the urge to curl in on himself. Swiping his gaze around the shop, he concludes that except for himself, there are three other people to be seen - a girl sitting in a chair in front of a mirror while a makeup artist is working on her eyebrows, and a guy standing behind the checkout counter, attention fixated on the computer screen in front of him.

Digging his hands as far into the pockets of his jeans as possible, Luke draws a deep breath before he approaches the counter with slow, measured steps. His throat feels constricted, and he wonders if he’ll be able to get a single word out; if not, he could always just go home, order a pizza and forget about the whole endeavour for a few more days. Or weeks. Or months. Or until the end of time, just to make things easier for himself.

When he stops in front of the counter, the guy behind it looks up, and offers a smile that makes his eyes crinkle up. A quick look at the nametag on the man’s chest tells Luke that his name’s Ashton. It’s a good name, Luke thinks. It suits the man and his solid physique and dark, semi-curly hair.

“Uhm… hi,” Luke says after a beat of silence. At least his voice still works, even though it comes out quivering with nerves.

“Hi,” Ashton says, still smiling. “Anything I can do for you today?”

“Yeah, I- maybe,” Luke says. Shooting his eyes to the floor, he clears his throat. “I… I wanted- I mean, I thought I’d… shit.” He inhales deeply, then looks back up as he exhales. “Sorry.”

Ashton’s eyebrows knit together. “You alright? You’re kinda… shaking.”

“Sorry,” Luke says again, attempting to laugh as if it’s gonna give him a boost of confidence. Sadly, it doesn’t. “I don’t really know how to… you know.”

“Can’t say that I do, no,” Ashton says while his lips curve up in a faint smile. “I’m pretty good at reading people, but other than the fact that you look about ready to faint, I have no idea what’s going on in your head.”

Luke grimaces; is he really _that_ transparent? “Sorry.”

“You’ve been here for approximately two minutes and you’ve already apologised for absolutely nothing three times, you know,” Ashton points out. Stepping out from behind the counter, he walks up to Luke, leaving a couple of feet of distance between them. “Are you here on behalf of yourself or someone else?”

“I… myself,” Luke mumbles, throwing a swift glance at the two girls across the room. They’re wholly focused on each other, though, paying no mind whatsoever to Luke or Ashton.

“Alright, and what is it you want done?” Ashton asks. “Hair or makeup or…? We only do hair on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so if it’s that, you’re gonna have to come back another day, but-”

“No, I- no, my hair’s… I mean, my hair’s fine. I think.”

“It does look fine,” Ashton agrees as his eyes take in the mess of light curls on Luke’s head. “So, makeup, then?”

Luke can feel a rush of blood from his stomach to his face, and he rolls his lips before giving a curt nod.

“Wanna give me something more to go on, or would you like me to just slather some products on you and hope for the best?”

“Oh,” Luke says, and it comes out accompanied by a curt, breathy laugh. “I… I don’t know. I just wanted to… you know, try something new, but…”

A realisation seems to dawn on Ashton, then, and he nods slowly. “Ah, hence the shaking, sweating and stuttering,” he says, but it comes out kind. “You do realise that makeup is what we do here, yeah? No one in here’s gonna judge you for wanting to try it out.”

Luke shrugs half-heartedly. “Suppose not,” he says. He chooses to not say anything about the fact that it’s the judgement he’s passing on himself that’s the main problem. It’s gotten a lot better, otherwise there’s no chance he’d be standing where he is right now, but remnants of it still cling on.

“Come on,” Ashton says, gesturing towards one of the free chairs in front of the mirrors, the one that’s the furthest away from the two girls. He waits until Luke’s sat down before he pulls a rolling stool from under the desk underneath the mirror, placing it next to Luke’s calves, then sits down. “Alright, first things first: What’s your name?”

“Luke.”

“Okay, Luke, I’m Ashton, I’m a makeup artist, have been for… five years now. What is it you do?”

“I’m a grade school teacher,” Luke says as he tucks a stray curl behind his ear.

“Damn. Don’t think I’d be able to do that. I’m complete shit with kids, they don’t tend to like me.”

“It’s fun, very rewarding,” Luke says, a smile sneaking up on him without his consent. “Exhausting at times, of course, but I reckon that applies to most jobs.”

“Not all jobs include having to keep track of twenty loud, hyperactive miniature humans, though.”

Luke can’t help but laugh, and he slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle it. “I can’t imagine why kids don’t like you,” he says.

“We’ve all got our talents; mine are, mainly, being awkward with kids and making people pretty,” Ashton says easily. “Speaking of, tell me what you want me to do with your face.”

Biting his tongue on a severely inappropriate response, Luke gnaws on his bottom lip as he considers the question. “I don’t… know, exactly,” he says in the end, clasping his hands loosely together in his lap. “I guess I just like… pretty things?” The moment the words are out of his mouth, his face heats up. “That sounded really stupid, sorry.”

“Of course it didn’t,” Ashton says dismissively. “You like pretty things, nothing wrong with that. Wanna elaborate?”

Luke hesitates once again, and he gives himself a mental beating for not having given this any thought before he left home. He was so focused on gathering the courage to even come here that he didn’t even consider having a few explanatory sentences planned out beforehand, and he truly hates himself for it right now. Ashton doesn’t seem to be in a hurry, though; he just looks at Luke, eyes attentive and curious, and a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Okay,” he says eventually. “I… I like things that shine and sparkle, I guess? Flowers and… lace and silk and gemstones are nice. And I haven’t done it yet, but I like… the idea of incorporating those things into how I dress and stuff, not every day or anything, but if I’m gonna dress up for something. If that makes sense?”

“It makes a lot of sense,” Ashton says. “Anything in particular that prompted you to come in here now, or has it been a long time coming?”

“Both. It’s been a long time coming, but… my friend’s getting married in a few weeks and I bought this pink silk shirt to wear, and I thought some makeup would… you know, do it proper justice.”

Blinking, Ashton asks, “You do realise that if I put makeup on you now, it’s not gonna be there in a few weeks, right?”

Luke smiles. “Yeah, thanks, I’m aware, I just figured I’d try it out to see if I’d even… like it. I might not.”

“Alright. Well, we close in about half an hour, but I should be able to do something nice before then, so wanna just get started?” Ashton asks, and Luke nods. “You mentioned you like things that shine and sparkle, so that’s easy enough to work with. Anything you absolutely don’t want? Any colours you hate?”

“I don’t think, like, super heavy eye-stuff is my thing,” Luke says. “And… I’m not a big fan of bright green or yellow, I suppose.”

“I wouldn’t dream of putting ‘ _heavy eye-stuff_ ’ on you,” Ashton says with a smile. “You’ve got a nice face, good bone structure, beautiful eyes. There’s no need for anything heavy, not right away at least, so I’m thinking we’ll go fairly light, focus mainly on your brows and cheekbones, subtly accentuate your eyes. Sound okay?” 

“Yeah, I- yeah, it sounds okay,” Luke says. 

Ashton gets up and walks over to a trolley, from where he pulls out a belt of sorts. It has a number of pockets on it, from which several brushes of all shapes and sizes are sticking up. Pulling out a drawer under the mirror in front of Luke, Ashton grabs an array of what Luke knows is makeup, though he has no idea what any of the assorted products are good for. He’ll leave it up to Ashton.

Pulling a hair clip from one of the belt pockets, Ashton gathers the front parts of Luke’s hair in a tiny bun and fastens it on top of his head. Luke snorts at the sight of his own reflection; he looks ridiculous.

“I’m not a hair stylist,” Ashton says flatly as he pumps out some sort of semi-transparent white goo from a small bottle onto his fingers.

“No shit,” Luke says, closing his eyes as Ashton starts rubbing the goo into his skin with gentle, practised motions.

He keeps his mouth closed while Ashton works, and doesn’t look at himself in the mirror, partly due to nerves, partly due to excitement. Thinking that perhaps applying makeup is something like surgery, that it looks like a warzone if one steps in mid-process, he’s feeling pretty good about his decision to not look until the work’s done. Things are being done to every part of his face - his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his jawline, his eyelids, and even his lips. The products Ashton uses all smell different, they all feel different, some being liquid, some being dry, and Luke catches himself thinking that even if he ends up hating the result, he loves just sitting there and having his face being touched and pampered with.

“Your cheekbones really do look amazing now,” Ashton comments at some point. “They’re gorgeous without makeup, but… even more so with.”

“Kinda the point of makeup, isn’t it?” Luke says. “Highlighting the… features or whatever one already has?”

“Depends on the person and the context, I suppose, but essentially, yeah.”

“How do you cope with it when someone comes in and asks you for something that you think is a horrible idea, though?”

Ashton chuckles. “Try and tell them as much as kindly as possible, or steer them onto a better idea. If they won’t listen… well, it’s their face.”

“Good thing you’re not a plastic surgeon.”

“I think plastic surgeons can, and should, outright refuse to make operations they think are a bad idea.”

“And you can’t?”

“I can, but I usually don’t, unless it's a bride or something coming through the doors. I can’t say I care too much if someone comes in to have their everyday makeup done and they wanna look like a trainwreck, other than the fact that my reputation might get soiled, but I’d rather not be responsible for some poor gal looking like a troll in her wedding pictures.”

“Could work out, though, if said gal was having a _Shrek_ -themed wedding,” Luke says. “I mean… ‘cause then she’d probably _want_ to look like a troll.”

Ashton stills in the middle of brushing something powdery on Luke’s forehead, then promptly bursts out laughing. “Touché, I suppose,” he says as he starts back up. “Weirdest thing I’ve ever said ‘touché’ to, so congrats.”

“Daily goal achieved.”

They fall back into silence while Ashton continues working, and Luke lets himself get lost in the feeling of his gentle, yet secure touches. The silence is broken momentarily when the two girls walk past them, chatting amicably as they make their way over to the register. Once the customer has paid, the makeup artist tells Ashton that she’s out for the day and that she’ll see him tomorrow, to which Ashton responds with a distracted, “See you, love.”

It’s not long after she’s left the shop that Ashton loosens the clip in Luke’s hair, then quickly drags his fingers through the strands. “Alright, I think you’re all set,” he then says. “Wanna take a look and see what you think?”

Luke’s heart rate speeds up the slightest bit, and he screws his eyes tightly shut for a moment before slowly prying them back open, blinking at the mirror. It takes him a moment to recognise the reflection as himself, because while he still looks very much like himself, at the same time he really doesn’t. It’s like he’s looking at a polished version of his face, though it’s not in a creepy or overdone way. As Ashton said, his cheekbones really do look amazing, sharply visible above his scruff, while his eyebrows are just the faintest bit darker and more defined than usual. His lips, normally relatively pale pink, are somewhat glossy and deeper pink, and his eyelids have been given a barely-there layer of something that are only a couple of shades darker than his skin.

“Oh,” he breathes as he leans in closer towards the mirror, eyes drifting from facial feature to facial feature in an attempt at taking it all in. “I… oh.”

Ashton sits down on the stool, and chuckles. “Not sure if you’re pleased or not, but you look great. Makeup becomes you.”

Lips parting on another sigh, Luke sits back in the chair, and looks at Ashton. “I love it,” he says. “It- you did a great job. I feel… yeah.”

“Pretty?” Ashton guesses, and Luke nods. “Good. That’s what you wanted, yeah?”

“Yeah, it was, and… you- thanks.”

“Just doing my job,” Ashton says. He gives Luke’s knee a gentle squeeze before he gets up and unfastens the belt from around his hips, putting it back on the trolley. “Do you reckon this look could work with that pink silk shirt of yours?”

Luke nods as he stands up and walks over to the checkout counter. “I think so, yeah,” he says. “The shirt’s pretty… loud in its own right, so I don’t think the makeup needs to be any more excessive than this.”

Ashton hums as he starts typing at the keyboard, eyes on the computer screen. “Sounds good. Wouldn’t wanna overpower the mighty shirt.”

Luke sniffs. “No makeup-job could ever.”

“Wanna bet?” Ashton asks with a wide smile, though his attention is still on the screen. “Give me a solid hour and a half, and I could do things to your face that would make everything else about you invisible.”

Luke can feel himself blush, but he doesn’t respond. He waits for Ashton to finish up, then pays what he owes, which is far less than he feared. “So… I think I’ll come back the day of the wedding, if that’s alright,” he says once his wallet is back in his pocket. “Is drop-in a safe bet or should I book an appointment?”

“It’s up to you, but truth to be told you got pretty lucky today,” Ashton says. “We usually don’t take drop-ins, so making an appointment is probably for the best. What time and date is it?”

“March 2nd, I’m supposed to be there at two o’clock.”

Ashton nods and clicks around on the computer for a bit. “Okay, well, I’ve got a free appointment at 11 that day. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Luke says. “Is… I mean, are you gonna be doing me again or…?”

“Doing you?” Ashton laughs. “That might be a little unprofessional of me, but…”

“Oh, no, I- fuck,” Luke cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “Sorry, I just meant-”

“I know what you meant, Luke,” Ashton says, remnants of the laughter present in the fine lines around his eyes. “And yeah, I thought I’d ‘ _do you_ ’ myself.”

“Okay, good, ‘cause… you did a really great job and- yeah.”

“Glad you think so,” Ashton says. He throws a look at the large clock on the wall next to the counter. “I have to start locking up here, so…”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” Luke says quickly. “I’ll see you on the 2nd, then?”

“Mhm, that you will,” Ashton says.

With another smile, Luke turns around and starts walking towards the door. He’s almost there when he stops, thinks, considers, sucking in his bottom lip as he does. Sucking in a deep breath, he turns back around, only to find Ashton looking at him with a quirked eyebrow.

“Do you… do you have Snapchat or something?” he asks, diverting his eyes to a spot behind Ashton.

“Snapchat?” Ashton repeats questioningly.

“Yeah, I… I thought maybe you’d want to… you know, I could send you a picture of the shirt, if you’d want to plan the… shit.” Luke’s courage fails him and embarrassment takes over, leaving him with flaming cheeks and sweaty palms. He wonders more often than not why some of the genes that went into granting him eighty mile-long legs couldn’t have been redistributed to develop his social skills a little better.

Ashton remains quiet for a long while, and Luke has half a mind to run out of the shop before he literally catches on fire. When Ashton does speak, he sounds part amused, part something that Luke isn’t able to identify.

“Yeah, I have Snapchat,” he says. “Give me your phone.”

Gaze shooting back up, Luke stares at Ashton for a split second before he scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket, unlocks it and hands it to Ashton. Ashton taps on the phone screen with nimble fingers, smiling crookedly as he does, then gives it back to Luke.

“There you go,” he says. “Now you can send me a pic of your shirt, so I can… plan shit.”

Luke swallows back a giggle that threatens to spill out. “I will.”

“Okay.” Ashton cocks his head to the side, eyes glinting with something akin to amusement as he regards Luke. “You know, if you wanted my Snapchat, you could’ve just asked. No need to hide it under the pretense of… well, anything.”

“What? No, I wasn’t-” Clamping his mouth shut when Ashton’s smile widens, Luke rolls his eyes. “I’m no good at the whole… flirting-thing.”

“You don’t say.”

“And I don’t know what the policy is on flirting with… makeup-artists.”

“It’s severely frowned upon, I’d be fined if anyone were to find out,” Ashton says. When Luke’s jaw drops, he barks out a laugh. “I’m joking, Luke. The policy isn’t very strict, so don’t worry.”

“Oh.” Luke stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Okay, well, I’m gonna go and let you lock up.”

“Don’t forget to send me that picture when you get home,” Ashton says. “After all, I need to see it if I’m gonna _plan_ how to decorate your face in a few weeks.”

Luke pinches the bridge of his nose, chuckling. “You can stop referring to that now.”

“Forget it,” Ashton says. “It’s too fucking funny.”

“Your face is too fucking funny,” Luke grumbles as he turns around once again. This time he makes it all the way to the door and pushes it open. Looking over his shoulder, he smiles at Ashton. “Bye, and thanks again.”

“No problem,” Ashton says, smiling back. “You really do look pretty, amazingly so.”

Luke smiles all the way home, and the moment he’s inside, he finds the shirt in his closet and puts it on. He spends a solid five minutes admiring himself in the mirror, ignoring how conceited it makes him feel, before he grabs his phone and takes a selfie in the mirror to send to Ashton.

The response comes less than half a minute later in the shape of a close-up selfie of a smiling Ashton, captioned with, ‘ _Oh yeah, prime planning material, pretty-boy!_ ’


End file.
